


Vague Prayers

by writingfics_giffingthings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Radio, BAMF Castiel, Bobby SInger - Freeform, Bottom Dean, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Dean's naughty dreams, Destiel feels, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean if you squint, Don't tell me not to reference my songs within my songs, Edging, Fluff and Smut, Hot angel lovin, I have a fever and the only cure is more Destiel smut, Impala Sex, Light Bondage, Light and loving Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, PWP, Reassuring Cas, S6 Spoilers, Safe experimentation, Sam Ships It, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Top Castiel, Warrior Castiel, voyeurism sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfics_giffingthings/pseuds/writingfics_giffingthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has just about had enough of Dean's frivolous requests. He's very sorry if he can't make himself available for a human's every whim and fancy, it's just that he's a bit busy fighting a civil war in Heaven at the moment. This is the third vague prayer he's heard from the hunter in as many days, and Dean has the nerve to sound hurt, even broken, presumably at Castiel's lack of reply.<br/>The angel grits his teeth and wills himself to the broken down motel room where he sees Dean start at his sudden and unannounced presence. The man is in bed, under a blanket and curled on his side, but quickly sits bolt upright, appearing quite shaken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel believes Dean is calling him away from the battlefield.

Castiel has just about had enough of Dean's frivolous requests. He's very sorry if he can't make himself available for a human's every whim and fancy, it's just that he's a bit busy fighting a civil war in Heaven at the moment. This is the third vague prayer he's heard from the hunter in as many days, and Dean has the nerve to sound hurt, even broken, presumably at Castiel's lack of reply.

The angel grits his teeth and wills himself to the broken down motel room where he sees Dean start at his sudden and unannounced presence. The man is in bed, under a blanket and curled on his side, but quickly sits bolt upright, appearing quite shaken.

"Shit, Cas!" Dean's surprised expression turns to one of... Castiel isn't sure. Some unpleasant human emotion.

"What is it you want, Dean? You know I am in the midst of..." Castiel trails off, observing with horror that something seems truly to be wrong with the hunter. Dean's suddenly wearing a look of agony. His hips appear to be lifting off the mattress and a low growled curse escapes him between panting gasps.

Castiel's heart is now in his throat and he runs to the bedside, examining the human's flushed and sweat-coated face, reaching out to touch the man's cheek.

"Dean, what is happening? What's wrong?" Fear and anger knit Castiel's eyebrows together. "Damn it, you should have told me," he says, and now the human is leaning away from him, pressing his face into a pillow and wrapping the blanket tightly around himself.

"No Cas, damn it go away," he yells, muffled, into the pillow.

"Dean, I can help you," Castiel insists, reaching to touch the hunter's arm. He focuses his grace on healing the man, but does not feel any change.

"What- ." The angel jerks his hand away as Dean swats at it. "I heard you, I heard you and I didn't know you were hurt. You need to tell me what has happened." Once again he touches Dean's skin, this time at the nape of his neck, which is raised into goosebumps.

"I said I'm fine!" Dean shouts and sits up in bed, glaring at the baffled and panicked angel. "Fuck." He takes a deep, ragged breath, then continues. " I wasn't calling for you, Cas." The angel frowns.

"You were. I heard you, but I was unable- unwilling to come. If I'd known-"

"Listen to me, will ya?" Dean scolds in a hoarse whisper. "You're making this even more awkward than it already is. I'm not hurt. I'm not sick. I wasn't talking to you. I was talking.. about you. Sort of." He brings his blanket covered knees to his chest and rests his forehead in his hand. "I was 'thinking' about you." He looks irritably up at Castiel.

The angel's eyebrows arch at the dawning realization. That hadn't been pain he'd seen on the man's face.

"Fantasizing," Dean confirms with a grimace. His shoulders slump back onto the gaudy satin-covered headboard. "About you. Now will you just leave? This is about the most humiliating day of my life."

Castiel is staring. He knows he's doing it but he can't tear his eyes away. He realizes his mouth is agape and snaps it shut.

"Oh, for the love of... Cas? You in there?"

"I need to leave, Dean."

"Yeah, no shit. That's what I was trying-"

"Stay right where you are. I will be back. Don't leave." And with that he leaves the young human alone in his motel room. There are some urgent matters awaiting him on the battlefield, but Castiel decides to get good at delegating, and fast.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean relives the horror.

Dean is staring at the same crappy chunk of ceiling tile he's been staring at for the past hour. He's such a damn idiot. How had he not realized Cas would hear him? He squeezes his eyes shut, unwillingly reliving the angel catching him in his little "alone time" ritual. The one that had started innocently enough a few days back, when Dean noticed - really for the first time noticed - that Cas had these unbelievable, bee-stung, angular, gorgeous lips, and that Dean wanted to touch them.

It was weird at first. Dean hardly noticed. Just a passing thought. But when the idea had gained enough traction to pass through his conscious mind, it stuck. And then every time he had a minute to himself, he was thinking about Cas and his big damn pout. Dean's used to pushing weird thoughts out of his mind. He's seen a lot of hot demons who, let's be honest, without the devil-bitch blood, he would have picked up in a hot second. But Cas. Dean's pretty sure Cas is anatomically correct. As a male. And try as he might, he hasn't been able to shake these thoughts. Last few days, he just can't get away from it. Like he's always got angel lips on the brain.

Well, with Dean, where there's smoke there's typically some kinda crazy funeral bon-pyre. He couldn't have just let the curiosity about Cas-lips pass through his mind and move on. No, he'd been thinking about Cas talking. Cas eating pie. Cas whistling. Cas blowing bubbles out of a dainty freakin' wand. About what his lips would feel like on the pads of Dean's fingers. Just to see. And that'd led thoughts about Cas's kissing ability. Academic, at first. Then not-so. And then when he'd closed his eyes that first night, another in a series of hard-won battles behind him, his mind had wandered to other things Cas might do with his lips. He'd had a pretty intense dream about the socially awkward angel that night. And when he'd woken up a sweaty, breathless mess, wondering if he'd said the angel's name in his sleep, he'd been forced to consider that it wasn't just the angel's lips he was interested in.

He'd touched himself in the shower the next morning, only half admitting to himself that the all-consuming theme of his sexuality at that moment had been Angel Lovin'. He tried not to let himself go there as he took care of his morning wood, but as the day wore on, he still couldn't get it out of his head. He wanted the angel. Maybe like he hadn't wanted anyone else before.

And again that night, when he figured he could pass for dirty enough for a second shower to escape Sam's company, he jerked himself off fast and quiet, thinking about Cas's lips around his dick without denial, whispering Castiel's name as he came.

That brought him to today. Dean had jolted awake with a hellacious boner. He'd had a more explicit Cas dream than the last. He'd covered his face back in a sheath of blankets as Sam yelled at him to get out of bed. They had a new case. Guy disappears out of a crowded room, witnesses, yada yada. End game was Sam had research to do. And so Dean feigned hangover to kick his brother out of the room for a few hours. 

As soon as Sam had shut the door behind him, Dean was kicking off his boxers and closing his eyes to try to recapture the dream he'd just had. He had just been teasing and edging his way toward the plunge into orgasm, thinking about the million ways he wanted Cas, when Who the Hell Else zapped onto the scene.

Dean had tried to stop when he'd noticed Cas, but the shock of seeing him had toppled Dean right over the edge. There'd been nothing he could do to stop it, so he just came under the covers, all over himself, as Cas watched. 

And this is why he's been staring at a crappy piece of ceiling tile for an hour. It's cold comfort that the angel hadn't understood at first. He sure as hell does now. And he's coming back. 

For what, exactly? Dean doesn't think Cas would've hesitated much if the punishment for the crime of wanting angel sex had been back downstairs for another round of fryin'. But he also doesn't think the angel was any too happy with him. He doesn't dare leave. So he just sits there on the bed, waiting for Cas to come back and do, or hopefully just say, whatever it is he's gonna do or say.

Dean's phone chirps to life. He scowls over at the display, then picks it up. "Sam."

"Yeah, hey man. So we've got a lead. There's a cluster of these disappearances about 3 hours up the road. You feelin' any better?"

"Jesus man. It's not even 11 AM. Give a man the chance to recover." Dean regards the ceiling tile with a threatening glare. He hears Sam sigh.

"All right, I'm gonna go follow up. Be back tonight. Drink some water or something."

"A'ight." Dean ends the call and tosses the phone back onto the nightstand. Might as well try to get some shuteye for now. He drapes his arm over his eyes and fades out, thoughts of guilt and embarrassment and impending doom clouding his restless sleep.

***

Upstairs, the firmament is aflame with violence. Castiel has lost some of his best today. Not only irreplaceable officers, but brothers and sisters. His world is collapsing around him. Yet here he is, putting in order plans for his absence. A blessed absence. One he needs, just to escape this grief, this turmoil and death and loss. 

The warrior knows that the actions he's about to take will have consequences. However staying, fighting would carry with them their own set. He is empty. His Father has called in sick to this age, and there seems to be no allegiance of angelic brother- and sisterhood so strong it can't be shattered. He needs love to replenish his will. He needs someone to look into his being and tell him there is good left in the Universe. He needs the man he saved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean awaits the inevitable wrath of Castiel

Dean wakes to the breeze of unseen wings and late morning light streaming through the sheer motel drapes. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, sitting up to meet Cas's serious gaze, a sick tension in his stomach. He tries to smile but can't do it.

"Hello Dean. Thank you for waiting for me. There were some things I had to attend to which would not have waited."

"Sure Cas. Listen, about earlier. I'm really sorry about that, man." His eyes drop to his lap. He's tried to prepare for this, waiting for Cas, he's practiced his explanation, but now his mouth is dry and he can't find the words. He was going to tell the guy he hadn't meant to cut in, what with Cas dancing with the big dogs upstairs and all, but flashbacks to the moment when the angel found him in flagrante delicto are flooding his mind, muting his apologies.

He looks up helplessly, only to find the usual stoic expression on his friend's face.

Cas is standing there in his generic polyester suit and road worn trench, necktie askew and poorly knotted. His hands remain fisted at his sides. Just like always. Dean thinks maybe Cas looks a little worse for wear, or it might just be the anger, but it's so tough to get a read on the guy.

Maybe he deserves whatever he's got comin'. Not maybe, he knows he does. But he's having some trouble with the idea that Cas might feel betrayed by him. Hell, he'd probably feel all sorts of violated if the tables were turned. And Cas is one of the few - the very few people Dean has left. One of the best. He couldn't deal if he lost Cas to his own stupidity.

"You can save your apologies, Dean. They're the last thing I want to hear right now." Cas approaches the hunter and looks down, rolling his tensed shoulders back and stretching the muscles in each side of his neck in turn. Shit. It's looking like he's gonna go off on Dean after all. And if the last time Cas lost his cool with Dean is any indication, it's going to be a while before his face is anywhere near this pretty again. He cringes, thinking about that back alley beatdown. Now the angel's right fist is gripping the man's shirt, and his left, too, and Dean is hauled up to eye level with Cas.

Their eyes lock, and Dean winces at the ferocity in the angel's expression. "Cas? Buddy, can we talk about this?" Cas doesn't look like he's fucking around anymore, jerks Dean closer. They're nose to nose, and honestly, the hunter hasn't been this scared in a while.

"I don't think there's anything left to talk about," the angel growls. Dean's face puckers in anticipation of the ass kicking Cas is about hand him. He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting, knowing he's no match for Cas, and that he doesn't have a moral leg to stand on anyway.

And then, first contact, and it's Cas's lips crashing into his own. His eyes shoot open, but Cas's are closed, brows crinkled together in the most shocking, terrifying, gorgeous display of passion Dean has ever seen. He breathes an urgent moan against the angel's lips and lets his eyes drift shut again, parting his lips at Cas's insistent tongue.

What in the hell-

Dean's being pushed back onto the bed, God awfully confused, but a hundred percent on board with whatever this is. Cas is peeling off his coat and jacket at once, the seal of their lips breaking momentarily. Dean has a moment to breath, and stares wide-eyed up at the angel, who is straddling his torso now.

"Cas, what are you doing?" The angel was leaning in close to him now, tugging up at the edge of Dean's tee and letting his fingers wash over a hipbone.

"Exactly what you want me to, Dean. What you've been praying for." He leans in toward the hunter again, moving to one side now, brushing his nose against Dean's ear. "We both know what I saw. What I heard."

Dean shuts his eyes again, feeling a deep blush rise into his cheeks. He feels plump lips mouthing at the sensitive skin of his neck, little swipes of hot tongue darting out here and there. He's having trouble breathing, not believing this is real. He brings his palms hesitantly to Cas's back, sliding them down over the thin dress shirt still covering the other's torso to slip over a still fully clothed ass. Cas's flattened hands slide up his sides and over his chest, stopping to brush his thumbs over the man's nipples. He sucks in a gasp, feeling his dick stiffen in his jeans.

"Dammit Cas, you are one confusing sumbitch. I figured you were on your way back to teach me a lesson," he breathes into the angel's sweet smelling hair.

"We have much to discuss, Dean," Cas says, leaning back up to look into Dean's eyes. "At some point. But I have too little time to get into that now. Suffice it to say, I am in a very low place right now, and I came here, to you, because you give me something that I desperately need."

Dean notices that Cas has decided to leave that something nameless for now. He doesn't care. He's all in. Pulls Cas back down to him by the neck, the weight of what's happening just a whisper in the back of his mind as their bodies tangle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to wrap up. I wanted to keep writing! Hope you'll keep reading. Subscribe for more smut, coming soon loves!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel and Dean, shockingly, make sweet angel/human love (PWP, people - I warned you).

Castiel is swimming through consciousness now, all tongue, and pelvic thrust, and splayed fingers touching Dean in every new area he can think to. He's rushed to get back to this place, where he'd be able to push himself into the human's embrace and be held by the man who has loved him. The man who, Castiel has learned today, also desires him. He shuts his eyes, shivering at the thought, and at Dean's teeth dragging over the thin skin at the crook of his shoulder and neck. The man rolls their bodies in unison, and Castiel submits to being pushed firmly onto his back.

"I'm gonna need you a lot more naked, Cas." Dean flashes him a wicked look and scoots back on the bed. Castiel's eyes narrow and what feels like happiness sweeps briefly across his lips. He's already disrobed from the waist up, and his belt, button and fly are undone. They'd had to make way for Dean's curious hands, which are now jerking his slacks and undergarments down and off of his legs. The still air is cool against his exposed skin as he watches the human stand to pull his own clothing off.

Castiel is silent as he watches, has been more or less so the entire time. There is a pounding in his chest, his stomach is tight and his breathing shallow. It strikes him that this intensity is _want_. He _wants Dean_ , so very badly now. The feverish heat radiating from his manhood, so engorged it's now resting against his lower abdomen, is a physiological reaction to Dean's touch and his own hormones.

But the way he aches for Dean, deep in the pit of his chest, this is something new. Something he does not believe can be explained by either the profound (but chaste) bond they'd shared for so long now, nor by anything as simple as arousal. Dean kneels again at Castiel's feet, naked and erect, eyes half-lidded as he crawls up over Castiel's body. He shapes a strong hand gently against the angel's jaw.

"I can't stop thinkin' about you," he softly confides, fixing his soft green eyes on the angel's, not even a hint of laughter in them at this moment. Castiel sees the courage this has taken, and hooks his hands together just at the small of the man's back, smoothly pulling their bodies together.

"You don't have to think about me right now, Dean. I'm here with you." His own words seem to trigger something in him, maybe in both of them. Castiel is always mindful that time is of the essence, but so much moreso in this fleeting moment with Dean. Castiel's hands glide up the man's spine, tangling into his hair, and their lips come once more together.

Dean's thumb is gently stroking the stubble of the angel's cheek, and his lips are pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses from Castiel's jaw down to his collarbone, when he realizes that the man's other hand, no longer resting on Castiel's heart, is snaking between their stomachs and down, and the man's hips have lifted to allow room for him to take gentle hold of Castiel. He inhales sharply at the touch, letting his eyes roll up toward the ceiling. The room is out of focus now and he can hear his own heartbeat in his head.

A first, a second and third slow, thorough stroke of Dean's hand, and Castiel feels himself waivering. There's an urgency to this he can't rid himself of now, and he's thrusting into the man's fisted grip. He looks frantically to Dean for guidance, and meets wide eyes filled with - that look again - lust. It feeds his own need and he grasps Dean's arm as the man works his hand faster.

There's a heat rising up in him, and he's losing control. He hears his own halting breaths, his stomach clenching, forcing his shoulders and now his upper back off the bed. Dean is whispering his name and Castiel plants a hand on the bed to steady himself.

"Come on, Cas, you're almost there," and he is, he is almost, almost -

"Close your eyes," Castiel manages desparately, but as he feels himself so near to this strange, heartbreaking, scorching precipate, he can't trust Dean to do it. He grips the man's neck, and his jaw is clenched as he tries not to let go before -

He clasps a hand tightly over Dean's surprised eyes not a second too soon, and he is gone, a blinding white light spilling from his eyes, the most incredible warmth coming over his body, and Dean is still touching him, helping Castiel ride these tremors of intense pleasure out. And with huffing breaths, the angel regains sufficient control to release the hunter, then collapses onto his back.

***

Dean's eyes probably couldn't get any wider right now, and he knows it. But he didn't have any point of reference for this kind of thing, so, "I guess not going blind by angel orgasm is a win." His lips curve up into a dazed smiled, and he moves up next to Cas. "You okay? That seemed...pretty damn intense." The angel still seems to be catching his breath, but he smiles a real, full-on smile right up into Dean's eyes. And Dean is ecstatic.

"It was." The angel looks in awe of the whole thing, then all of a sudden deadly serious. "Oh my word, I did nearly blind you." Cas is wriggling out of Dean's arms to look after the man. "Are your eyes intact? Er, of course, but are they ok?" The hunter laughs.

"I'm fine, and thanks for makin' sure of it." He grins and pulls Cas, who seems to be relaxing again, in close. "First time goin' okay so far?" Cas gives him the old sarcastic side-eye.

"I'd say, 'okay,' is a bit of an understatement. It was all over so quickly though. I had always envisioned it taking longer than that. I cleared too much time." Dean chuckles.

"It'll take longer next time. And I'm pretty sure we can find a way to occupy more of your day." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean tries not to let Sammy know the thing he already mostly knows.

Dean is totally spent. He'd just spent the better part of three hours having his mind blown and body worshipped by a gorgeous angel with seemingly unending stamina. His eyes just have drifted shut when he feels Cas's hand on his cheek.

"I have to go. I have stayed too long already. The battle rages on at home, and I can't shirk my duties any longer." Dean looks weakly up at Cas.

"I know you gotta go." He bites at the inside of his lip and pulls the covers further up and over himself. He's doubting himself. He feels undeserving, and already there's an ache of emptiness without Cas in his arms. "Just tell me you're comin' back. That this wasn't just a distraction for you." The angel's eyebrows shoot up, and he brings his other hand to the hunter's face.

"Dean, please. I hope you don't believe what you're saying. After everything. After today. You are my only connection. My only comfort. I- I am having trouble putting words to it. Of course I will be back." He smiles sadly down at Dean. "As soon as I possibly can."

He bids Dean farewell with a gentle kiss, and then he is gone.

***

Dean shoves a french fry into his already double bacon cheeseburger-filled mouth, and cocks an eyebrow at Sammy. "For real dude?" he says, working around the mouthfull. "A magician? You're telling me that a full on black magick practitioner's out there flaunting his skills, on stage, in a top hat and cape? I call bull."

Sam stabs his fork into a crouton.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's the best lead we've got. I mean, he's connected to every single one of the missing people, and he was even in the room when the first guy disappeared. Seems like the guy just has a hard-on for risk. And get this, his ex-wife disappeared three years ago. Case was never solved."

Dean tilts his head in acknowledgement that anything's possible. "This nutjob have a permanent residence?"

"Well that's the other thing. He does, it's here in Jersey. I interviewed him already. But he's on the road all the time, and all the other vics disappeared when he was out in San Fran at a magic convention. The last woman vanished from a bar here in town while he was in front of a sold-out audience, on the opposite coast. Pretty bulletproof alibi if you ask me." Dean takes a swig of his beer and shoots Sammy a look.

"And you're sure this is the most interesting case we've got? I'm curious, sure, but I'm wondering whether interrogating Disappear-o the Magnificent is really the best use of our time right now." Sammy shrugs.

"Bobby wanted us to stay in the area in case there is another string of possessions in Jersey City. As long as we're here, we might as well check it out."

"I think Bobby needs to rethink his priorities," Dean spits sharply. "We could be doing a lot more than we are to help Cas out, and the demons in Jersey have got nothin' to do with that."

"Well have you tried calling Cas?" Dean chokes on a fry, but recovers without much fanfare. "I mean, far as I know we don't have anything new we can really help him with. At least here we can hopefully save some people."

"I uh, I talked to him today actually. Didn't really give us much to work with, but I just thought we could try to figure it out...ourselves." Sammy looks unconvinced, and Dean silently agrees that his argument was probably pretty weak.

"Well if you talked to him, and he didn't say anything, I think we should go with the case we have."

"Sammy, you know he doesn't ask for shit from us. Just answers every time we call. He's tryin' to save Heaven, pretty much single-handed, and he still makes time for us every time we need help. I just thought maybe we could try to get something done for him for once, without needing our hands held." Sammy looks taken aback at Dean's defensiveness.

"All right, man. I hear ya." Dean feels shitty about the way his attitude is manifesting. Sam is doing what he thinks is right, and Dean knows it. He just wants to help lighten Cas's load if he can. "How 'bout this. You figure out what you need from me, and meantime I'll keep working on the case. Sound okay?" Dean gives a slow nod, then looks out the diner window into the darkness.

"Long as you're not breaking up with me again, Sammy." His tone is somewhere in the uncanny valley of sincerity. "I just don't think I could take that again." Sammy rolls his eyes and goes back to his salad.

"Right." Dean is relieved he made it through the topic of Cas without raising Sammy's suspicions. "So you talked to Cas today? Did he call? I mean we haven't heard from him in a week, at least."

Or not.

"Ahh, yeah, he zapped down to say hi. He thought I needed something. I guess he was confused." The older Winchester puts on a tight-lipped smile and waves at their server.

"What? Well how is he? Last time we talked it seemed like things weren't going the best upstairs." Their server gets to the table and gives them a questioning look.

"Yeah, we'll take the check, please." He smiles at the young woman, then casually pops his last couple of fries into his mouth. Sam continues to stare at him, waiting for an answer. Dean panics.

"No, he's fine." Shit, that's not what he meant to say. It's not true and Sammy knows it.

"Fine? Are you kidding me? I know I don't have a 'profound bond' with the guy, but I don't think he's _fine_ , Dean." Sammy gives him a well-deserved look of disbelief.

"Well. Under the circumstances. I mean, he didn't say he was fine. He said, um," Dean's stuttering now, and his eyelids flutter nervously. "He- I don't know man, we don't really talk about feelings that much."

God. Damn it.

"Yeah, well maybe you should start," Sammy suggests stubbornly. "You're the one who's always saying what a good friend he is, and now you want us to do more to be there for him. Asking him how he's holding up might be a good start." Sam shakes his head, not breaking eye contact with Dean as he takes a drink of his black coffee. "I swear, you two are like babies. Eventually one of you is going to have to make the first move."

Dean's jaw is clenched as he wills the blush out of his cheeks. Sammy did not just say that. This conversation isn't happening. In a diner. In front of civilians. He grits his teeth and decides to ignore the last part.

"You know, you're right. I'll ask him next time."

"Maybe just ask him now. I'm sure he'd like to know we wanna help. He won't come if he doesn't have time." Dean's eyes widen.

"Oh, dude, he knows I- we care about him. I don't need to bother him-"

"Castiel, it's Sam. If you're listening, we're just thinking about you right now," the taller man starts too loudly, drawing looks from the table behind him. "If you have the time, please tell us you're ok." Dean is mortified. They hadn't done much talking about what they were telling or not telling Sammy. Seems like maybe he already has a hunch. Dean closes his eyes and mutters.

"Cas, Sammy's drunk. We'll talk to you when we talk to you. Amen." He reopens his eyes and glares at his brother. But out the window, in the pool of light beneath the streetlamp across the road, there is Cas. He's crossing to the diner now, and Dean sinks back in the booth as the bell on the diner's door jingles.

"Well congratulations, Sammy. Cas likes you better." He shoots a half-hearted smile to the angel as he approaches their table.

"Sam, Dean." The angel addresses them in turn, and Dean cringes at the way Cas's tone softens saying his name. Cas slides into the booth next to him. Sam smirks.

"Hi Cas," Dean manages nervously.

"Hey Cas! Glad you could join us." Sammy is radiating smugness as he smiles at the angel, who seems not to pick up on it.

"Thank you, Sam," Cas replies in his usual gruff tone. "I am glad as well." Then Cas turns to Dean and freaking smiles. Like a normal-ass person, except it doesn't come off as normal of course. Cas doesn't do that kind of thing. When he tries, it always looks suspicious. Just what Dean doesn't need. He tries to sneak a peak at Sammy's face, see what kind of damage was done. He thinks he sees a surprised grin on his brother's face, but he doesn't risk a longer look to confirm.

"Cas, I was just telling Sam that you just popped down for a minute today. To talk." Dean knows this is a bad strategy, but he doesn't have many options. He thinks - just as loudly as he can possibly think - _Please Cas, don't tell him yet. I'm not ready. He doesn't know._

The angel gives Dean a look of suspicious confusion, but says nothing, instead nodding slowly. He slowly shifts his eyes over to Sammy.

"Yes. I needed advice on my - tie." Cas shuts his mouth to swallow, audibly, before continuing. "Cleaning and care, proper knotting, and so-forth. I feel confident we made progress." Sam inspects the angel's typically dissheveled appearance, then looks over to Dean with a patronizing smile.

"Uh-huh. Well." Sammy raises his coffee mug in salute. "I'm just glad to see you looking so - fine." He stifles a laugh and takes another sip. Dean's eyes narrow, and he forces a smile, kicking Sam's shin under the table. Sam grunts, but at least his coffee stays in his mouth. The angel seems unphased.

"Okay, I'm gonna go. Cas, really good to see you. We'll be here if you need anything." He gives Dean a significant look as he slips out of the booth, then slides his phone out of his pocket and wiggles it in his hand. Eyebrows quirk up, a single nod at Dean, then he leaves.

The other two sit in silence for a few moments, the odd-couple on the same side of the booth, when Dean feels his own phone vibrate. He checks it.

_Sam: Should I get my own room?_

Dean glances at Cas, then clicks out a quick reply:

_Dean: Man, no. No. Dude. No._

_Dean: At least not tonight._

Cas places his open palm on Dean's knee and gives him a solemn smile.

Dean sighs and pats the angel's hand. This is good. It's good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel says goodbye. 
> 
> (Whoa- stay with me - it's gonna be okay. Promise!)

Castiel stares up at a rainbow kite hanging in a pleasant blue sky. He's been here in the drowned autistic man's heaven all morning, quietly contemplating Balthazar's warning. He knows the deal he's made with Crowley is a treacherous one. And he knows he's going to have to tell the Winchesters soon enough. He's been able to avoid the truth thus far by, as Crowley so eloquently put it, calling his dogs off. This meant misleading Dean, and of course Sam and Bobby as well. Another compromise he'd had to make for the greater good, and for his friends' protection. He hopes Dean will understand after it's all over, but in his heart of hearts, Castiel believes that outcome to be very unlikely.

Castiel hasn't so much as appeared to Dean since they last spoke at the diner, nearly one week ago. Once he'd gotten back to the awful business of dealing with the King of Hell, he'd realized what a liability his feelings for the three humans, and Dean in particular, had truly become. He's fearful he'll let something slip, whether to Crowley or to Dean, and there is much at stake. Still, he knows that if Dean gives him even an little room to make this work, at least lets Castiel take action now and explain later, that he'll take the chance.

"Cas, buddy, I hate to do this, but we could really use a hand here. CAS!" Dean's frantic prayer startles the angel from his quiet rumination. He'd been keeping tabs on the hunters, but hadn't realized they were in any real danger. He goes to them, knowing it's time.

***

The boys had been on their way out of the abandoned old house to find a place to bed down for the night. Sam's flashback to his year and a half in the Pit had just scared the shit out of Dean, and he'd figured they could both use some real shuteye, in real beds. Dean is just unlocking the passenger door for Sammy when something hits him hard from the left, knocking him on his ass. He's winded but with a little effort he makes it to his feet. He can't see anything. Sammy's wide-eyed, still clearly shaken from the horror that he'd just confronted inside his own soul, but he's looking around for whatever laid Dean out too.

They get themselves positioned, back-to-back and pieces drawn, but Dean's squinting into the darkness and can't see anything. He'd swear there's nothing there. The brothers give each other an over-the-shoulder glance, and in the half-second it takes, Sammy's down with a vamp trying for his neck. Dean cold-cocks the sick-looking creature, but it barely slows her down. He grabs the corpse blood-filled syringe from his boot with practiced speed, flicks off the guard and stabs it into the bitch's neck. She howls as he slams the plunger down, and puts up a hell of a stink, but she's done for. Sammy seems at least un-bitten when Dean checks him out, hauling the body off of him, but then there's rustling in the woods around the old house, and now he can see three distinct sets of eyes glowing in the darkness.

Dammit, there isn't time to get the machetes out of the trunk, and even if there was, Sammy can't fight.

"Cas, buddy, I hate to do this, but we could really use a hand." The eyes start moving toward them, quickly and in unison, and Dean screams. "CAS!" He blinks, and the angel is there, ten yards ahead of the boys, and walking into the woods.

"What the hell, just zap us Cas! Zap us!" The angel holds up a hand for silence, not bothering to look back.

"Be gone, in God's name I command you." Cas's stride is long and sure as he speaks. Dean curses under his breath, but hurriedly gets Sam up and into the Impala's driver seat.

"Love to, pretty boy, but we got orders from the top," a grating female voice informs them. "The brothers are ours." Cas doesn't slow, and with a touch of his hand, Dean can see Screechy is down.

"Go." Dean is shutting the door on his brother. "Cas will get me back. Drive!" Sammy hesitates only briefly before putting her in gear and speeding away.

Dean jogs toward Cas, finding the angel elbow-deep in the second vamp's chest. It screams as it begins to smolder and ash, then crumbles, and in an instant Cas has his hand around the third, terrified monster's throat.

"Deliver this message to whomever you're working for," the angel spits into Number Three's face. "Castiel walks the earth again, and your presence will not be tolerated." Three nods shakily and Cas releases his grip. The vamp is gone faster than Dean's eyes can follow, and finally Cas turns to face Dean.

"Are you hurt?" Dean blinks a few times at the cold expression on the angel's face.

"No. No, they didn't touch me." He can't maintain eye contact, and looks down at his boots. "Saved our asses once again. Thanks." The angel approaches him and places his index finger gently under the hunter's chin, coaxing his head up. His face looks a little softer to Dean as their eyes meet.

"I'm glad you're okay." The corners of Dean's lips pull up into something like a smile, but all he can think is that this is exactly what he'd seen coming. That whatever happened with Cas was too good to be true, a little light in a dark place, and it's over now. Of course it is. Cas's head shifts slightly to one side as he studies Dean, and his eyes seem more melancholy than usual. "Let's go home."

Without further explanation, Dean and Cas are in the comfortably worn back seat of the Impala, rolling down the highway, and Sam swerves as he catches their reflection in the rear view.

"Jesus," he says after adjusting his grip on the wheel. "Not you too Dean." The older brother swallows back the sickness he's feeling about the chasm that seems to have opened between himself and the angel sitting next to him. He tries for a convincing chuckle.

"Wasn't my idea. Hey, how do you keep finding us, anyway?" he asks coolly. "Those homing medallions again? Doesn't that make us easy prey for the other, less friendly types?"

Cas smiles and slips his phone out of his pocket.

"This is linked to your other, other phone, Dean. Meaning I can't always find you, but I can usually find your glove compartment."

Sam laughs and glances back. "That's pretty good. Little rudimentary for an angel, but pretty good."

"Desperate times, Sam." Cas turns his head away from Dean to look out his window.

The three do a little catching up, the boys telling Cas about the scare they'd had with Sam earlier. Dean screws up when he's giving Cas the ol' _how-are-things_ , dropping the phrase "trouble in Paradise" right out there for the other two to hear. Cas is still maddeningly vague about the whole Heaven situation, and either he doesn't catch the double-meaning, or pretends not to. Sammy seems to be smiling a little too wide when he glances back at the men's reflection, and it manages to piss Dean off a little bit. At least he's oblivious. Before anything too heavy comes up, they're pulling into a little road hotel just off the two-lane. Sam kills the engine, and without a word, Cas is out of the car and walking to the middle of the dusty parking lot. Sam and Dean share a look.

"Go check in, wouldja Sammy? I'll see what's up with Grumpy and be right in." He follows after Cas, and as he approaches, he sees the angel staring into the night sky, head held high.

"All of this would be gone right now if it hadn't been for you, Dean." The angel is speaking smoothly and quietly now. "You're an extraordinary human being." Cas isn't looking over at him, but he does stand a bit closer to Dean as he talks. "The bravery you've shown is unlike any I've seen throughout the span of human history." Dean kicks at some pebbles and shoves a hand in his pocket. His chest is tight. He's waiting for the "but."

"I am still, unfortunately, unable to tell you anything more about the path I'm taking." He does turn to the hunter now. "But please understand that if I shared that with you, it would put both of us at much greater risk. I know you don't understand, but I'm asking you to trust me." The angel takes his hand, quietly waiting for a reply.

Dean doesn't like this. Not one bit. He's looking into Cas's eyes for anything that might help him understand, but he doesn't find any answers. He knows he's going to tell the angel to do whatever he has to do, but he'll be damned if he's gonna let him go through it alone.

"Just promise me you're going to let me in. I can see the weight you're carrying and it's killing me. I can't just sit down here and twiddle my thumbs anymore." The angel drops his hand, and Dean can see in his eyes that the answer ain't yes.

"I'll do what I can, Dean. That's all I can promise." The hunter's face hardens, and he balls his fists in his jacket pockets.

"Not good enough," Dean insists. "I'm down here trying to keep Sam's mortal soul from ripping apart at the seams, and all I've got to keep me going right now is some damn case I dug up about a dead college janitor. Now I'm feeling like I'm about to lose you too, and you're telling me I have to stand back and watch it happen?" He reaches out to touch Cas's hand again, giving him a pleading look. "You gotta throw me a bone here. I need some answers." The angel studies him in silence for a few long moments, then his eyes drop away from Dean's, which are stinging with the threat of tears.

"All right." Cas pulls the man toward himself and into a loose embrace. "I need a few days, but you will have your answers." Dean crumples in the angel's arms, letting himself believe it. He's fighting back a choked sob as he presses his face to the other's shirt collar

"Be careful, Cas. Please. I can't lose you. I can't."

***

It grieves Castiel to have lied to Dean yet again, but he has no other choice. Dean would surely try to intervene if he had any word of Crowley's bargain. It was far too dangerous.  Now the man's tears are soaking into Castiel's dress shirt as they hold each other in the cold night air. He presses his lips softly to Dean's hair and closes his eyes. This will likely be farewell, and it is breaking Castiel's heart to see this man hurting like this, and at merely the thought of what he already knows he will be putting Dean through, but he can't let him know. He pulls Dean closer, wishing he could take the pain away.

Then sweet, wet little kisses are being pressed onto the skin of the angel's neck, and his body stiffens against the hunter's. The tiny hairs of his skin stand on end  beneath his clothing as he hears and feels Dean sniffle against him, saliva and saline leaving cool little trails on under his jaw. Allowing this to continue would be so unfair to the man. But as Dean rests his hands on either cheek and pulls their lips together, Castiel finds he isn't ready to let go just yet. He needs a little more time spent with his heart and body connected to the hunter's.

The angel plants his hands firmly under Dean's hips and easily hoists the man up, and feels himself groan against the other's lips as strong legs  wrap around his waist. 

They're kissing one another fervently, Dean's pelvis pressed against Castiel's, and the angel makes his way distractedly to the Impala as the man continues his wordless entreaty. They reach the glossy black muscle car and Castiel fumbles with the passenger door handle, finding it locked. Dean's hand is at his pocket, then.

"Shit. Keys." Dean's eyes drift toward the motel with a cast of irritation. Castiel tips his head slightly, almost smiling, then shoves the man's back into the side of the car, taking Dean's lips against his once more, kissing him hotly and running the heel of his hand over the man's groin. Dean lets a ragged sigh escape him and Castiel purrs into his ear, "You so easily forget how few physical limitations I possess."

With that, they are on the rear bench seat again, Castiel seated and holding the human in roughly the same position as before. Dean backs his face away from Castiel's slightly, enough to blink at him with incredulity, apparently taking exception to his preternatural attempt at flair. Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hips, and drags the man on his lap closer. The friction seems to draw his attention back to the moment quite effectively; he leans in, the now familiar weight of desire pooling in his eyes, and takes the angel's lower lip between his teeth, and slips his tongue deliciously across it, leaving the faint scent of peppermint in its path. Castiel gives in to the shiver seeking purchase at the base of his spine. 

There is a heat in the way Dean worships his mouth, and the patient way his hands explore the angel's body,  that gives Castiel pause. The man in his arms has after all put his faith in the undeserving Sariph, giving everything he has, giving the impossible to Castiel, now pushing his fears aside and opening himself up to injury once again. But the only alternative the angel has, pushing Dean away now and wasting the gift of this last moment of intimacy with him, is one Castiel can't choose. He gives in to his love for the man now, despite the inevitable hurt it will cause them both, taking passion over duty yet again. 

He wraps an arm around the hunter's waist and slides the other under his thighs,  effortlessly cradling the man to himself as he moves to one side of the seat. It's easy to feel whole with Dean, though every day his existence is becoming more fragmented. There is a certainty in this act of love that Castiel hadn't known he'd lost. As his hands glide over the man's back and the human heart beats against his own, he knows there is something rare and priceless in this connection he's found. He lays the object of his adoration gently onto his back and traces the sharp line of Dean's jaw with light brushes of his lips. This draws a soft, low sound from the man, who's now hooked an arm around the angel's shoulder to draw their bodies closer.

_Cas, I didn't know how much I needed you, but I know now. Like I need air._

Castiel glances up at Dean, only to see the man's eyes closed and lips slightly parted. He presses his lips to Dean's forehead,  reassuring him wordlessly that at least for this moment they're together, then makes slow work of undressing him. Shirt buttons are undone one by one, kisses laid to the skin he reveals with each. When he reaches the button and fly of his worn denims, he whispers his thumb over the outline of Dean's need there, eliciting a shudder. 

The air is damp and heavy with tension, and when Castiel lifts Dean to remove the rest of his clothing, boots and jeans and boxers and socks drop forgotten to the floor of the car, Dean's hair cuts a swipe through the thick layer of mist on the window where he presses his head back. The sight of him, naked and needing, chest rising and falling in anticipation, it's all close to being too much. Castiel feels the ache in his chest swell again, and the hunter takes him in his arms, pulling the weight of the angel onto himself. 

They are slow and patient in their lovemaking this time, both taking what they need from the other with careful attention. Castiel opens the man up gently, and takes his time filling him, lips scarcely parting from his. They fill the air with whispers and soft noises of passion. Castiel runs his fingertips over the arms and chest, sides and hips of the man beneath him, memorizing his every dip and curve. And when Dean comes between them, gasping Castiel's name, the angel slows and allows himself to follow soley from the sensation of Dean's body contracting around him. 

 Then when there is nothing left but soft kisses and the catching of breath, Dean looks into the angel's eyes and tells him that he knows Castiel heard him, and that he meant it. Every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. Also, I really just wanted to call this Goodbye Sex In the Impala With an Angel 2: the Reckoning, but I didn't want to give it all up in the title.  
> It ain't over! Onward to the next chapter. Huzzah!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean misses his angel, and Castiel decides he can't stay away.

Cas's velvet tongue and wicked fingers are going to be the death of Dean. That tongue is swiping slow circles around the swollen head of his dick, and those fingers are currently wrapped around the base, coaxing his spit-slick skin up in short strokes. The candle-lit face of the angel, focusing diligently on his task, is a damn fine sight. The heady smell of sandalwood hangs in the air.

Dean tugs gently on the silky blue necktie Cas has got his wrists bound up to the bedpost with; he's sure he could break himself free if he really tried, but thinks the old headboard might come apart before the knot or the tie itself. Being tied up and at Cas's mercy is turning him on like crazy, so he continues to suspend his disbelief.

Cas drops his lips from the crown of Dean's dick and around the shaft, wetly descending as he watches. He can feel Cas's throat stretch around the head of him, tearing a groan from deep down inside, and it takes all his willpower to keep his hips mostly still. The angel's crystal blue eyes flicker up to meet Dean's, and he can see the hunger simmering there.

"Fuck, you're so good," he sighs, stretching the tense muscles in his arms, resting on the pillow above him, and his legs, spread to give Cas room to play. The angel's free hand is resting on Dean's abdomen, a finger tracing lazy circles around his belly button. The man's hips begin to rock as he feels the pool of pleasure begin to spread outward, through his groin, then gradually to the rest of his body.

"Mm, baby, don't stop. That mouth..." He feels his words becoming more strained and desperate. The lips wrapped around his cock are starting to glide up and down a bit faster now, causing Dean's bound fists to clench. He sees Cas notice this and back off of his dick, dark hint of a grin on his face. The angel moves his hand away too, and crawls up to stare into Dean's eyes.

Cas's name runs pleadingly across Dean's lips. He wiggles his hips up, seeking any contact, any friction, but barely manages to brush against the angel's clothed thigh.

It is clothed, he notices. In fact, Dean now realizes that Cas is still in his full suit and trench coat, missing only his tie. He's sort of having trouble remembering how they got here, now that he's thinking about it. A swell of confusion overtakes Dean, but Cas is leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"I'm doing exactly what you want me to, Dean. What you've been praying for."

Dean jumps and scares himself awake. Holy hell. Shit. That was a weird one.

He's in his bed at Bobby's, covered in a cold sweat, and breathing heavy as he recovers from his dream. He is also utterly alone. He sits up to finish the glass of water waiting on the nightstand, then rests his head back on the pillow. He closes his eyes and wills the strangeness out of his mind. He's tired; it's still the wee hours. He lets his heavy lids drift shut again.

***

It's 7a.m. and Dean's been up for a couple hours. His sleep was restless after waking up the first time. When he awoke for the third or fourth time and blinked at the clock, it said 4:58, and he decided to give up altogether.

So it's been another week since Cas has so much as checked in with the boys. They haven't had a reason to believe things were any better or worse for him than normal, so Dean's been hesitant to bother him. He really does understand the dude's busy. But he's worried about him. And he misses him. He wants to be back in those arms, where, almost unbelievably, he feels like he belongs. That's not a feeling he gets too often. Even with Lisa, he'd always felt like he should be waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did. But with Cas, even though a lot of it goes unspoken, things feel damn near right as rain. Except that right now, he's not at all letting Dean in on what's going on.

He drops his empty coffee cup a little too harshly on Bobby's dated kitchen counter, takes a deep breath, and pours another cup out of the old Bunn carafe.

"What's the word, hummin' bird?" Dean jumps, spinning to face Bobby, who's giving him an appropriately sarcastic look. His eyes drop to the floor as he tries to clear his head.

"Jeez, Bobby. A little warning next time." He rubs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"Walkin' into my own kitchen? Well, you're the boss." Bobby comes close to a grudging smile as he passes, taking a mug out of the cupboard for himself. "What's eatin' ya? Little early to be this jumpy, ain't it?"

"Ah," Dean puts on a smile and takes a seat at the kitchen table. "A lifetime's enough for guys like us to learn that we don't like being snuck up on, right? I made eggs if you want some." He gestures toward the stove, but quickly goes back to his coffee and his thoughts, glancing out the window, doing a visual sweep of the yard for Cas. He's found himself looking for the angel everywhere lately.

"How go the repairs on the old girl?" Bobby scoops a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto a plate, grabs the Tabasco, and sits down across from Dean.

"Barely put a dent in 'em, excuse the expression. I got a lot of work ahead of me there. It's okay, though. Should keep me occupied for a while."

"Well, I've got just about jack squat to do this week, so let me know if you need a hand." Dean nods, and Bobby pecks at his breakfast. "Heard about Ben's little Cupid's Arrow stunt. Wanted you and Lisa to give it another shot, huh? How'd that all go?" Dean's eyes widen. He really doesn't want to get into this again, what with Sammy and Bobby always sayin' he should've hung onto that apple pie life. But Bobby deserves to know, and he is asking because he legitimately gives a damn, so Dean decides to spill.

"Well, Bobby, not good. Kid's bent out of shape, and I would be too if I were in his shoes, but I don't know what I can do. Either way I lose, y'know?" He shakes his head helplessly. "There just ain't gonna be a happy ending there." Bobby chews on his lip, then shakes some more hot sauce onto his eggs.

"And Lisa? You two come to any sort of understanding?"

"My understanding is that she'd prefer it if I cut ties completely. Doesn't like me showing up and messing with their lives every few months. Which I get." Dean knows there's no future there, and she can't live like that. He's known all this for a long time. "Lisa and I are through. Hell, we were practically over before it started. I just feel bad about leaving things that way with Ben." Bobby looks like he's not sure what he wants to say. There isn't much to be said, and Dean doesn't expect him to have any answers.

"Keep your head up, son. You're not your father, remember that." Dean's eyebrows arch up at that, and he looks away, because he doesn't exactly see it that way, but he's not going to argue with the old man.

"Yeah. More coffee?"

***

The sun's just dipping below the horizon when Dean decides he's too worn out to turn on the flood lights and keep working on the Impala. He's covered in dirt and grease, but he's gotten a lot done on her today. He packs up his tools and wipes the excess grease from his fingers onto a nearby rag, then gently drops the hood shut and gives her an affectionate pat.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll have you back to mint in no time." He's turning back toward the house when his senses tell him there's someone close. Looking around the old junkyard, peering into and around the garage, he sees no one; it's just him and a bunch of old cars, far as he can see. The hairs at the base of his neck stand up, and he can't shake the feeling that someone, or something, is right there.

"Who's there?" he calls out, loudly enough for anyone between him and the house to hear. Nothing. He takes one final look around, then shakes his head and tries to swallow back his unease as he walks back to the house.

"Hey, man. Wanna beer?" Sammy's just getting one from the fridge for himself when Dean reaches the kitchen sink. He turns on the faucet and grabs the half-used bar of Lava soap perched on the edge.

"Sure, I could use a beer." As the grease-black soapy water splatters from his hands and runs down the floor of the sink, Sammy opens the beers and sets one on the counter next to Dean. He leans against the old fridge, and Dean gets the distinct and unsettling impression this means they're gonna capital-t Talk."

"So. You gonna tell me how you're doing, or what?" Sammy asks predictably. Dean flashes him bright, guileless eyes.

"Tell you? I thought we already got our talking in. Lisa, the case, thank yous, you're welcomes. If it's a hug you need, all you gotta do is ask." Dean raises his chin and grins. "Is that it?"

"Dean, that was yesterday. Sometimes people talk more than once a day." Sammy takes a swig of beer, giving Dean a minute to answer on his own.

"Those people sound awful." Dean dries his hands and grabs his beer, heading to Bobby's living room and grabbing a patch of couch for himself. Sam follows, of course.

"I'm serious, man. You have a lot to deal with right now." He pulls up a chair to face Dean. "I'm here if you wanna talk. Like, maybe about what's going on with Cas?" The older brother feels the blood drain from his face.

"Yeah, I don't know much more than you. Leave it at that." It's a command, not a suggestion, but Sam doesn't take it.

"So you haven't heard from him. Are you two...okay?" Sam is wearing an expression of concern, which is a little too close to prying for Dean's comfort.

"Dude, I don't know. I don't know anything." And then his hair is on end again, and there is a subtle but persistent heat in the air next to him. "Uh. Wait, do you feel anything Sammy? Like, right now?" Dean searches the room, not knowing what for.

"Feel...what?" Sammy's looking around too, now, confused.

"I don't know, I feel like someone's here. This happened outside just now, too. You don't, like, sense anything?" Dean feels foolish for asking the question.

"No," Sammy almost asks. His eyes narrow and he serves Dean another helping of the Concerned Brother face. "Look, you're under a lot of stress. Why don't you take a shower and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Yeah. Maybe," Dean agrees. He stands up and turns to back away from the couch. "I'll uh, see you in the morning, Sammy. Sorry if I'm not myself today."

***

Dean steps out of the shower, steam rising off his skin as he grabs the big, fluffy towel waiting for him on the rack. He is feeling a little better, relaxed after the particularly hot shower. Maybe Sam's right, it's probably just the stress. He dries off quickly, skipping the shave tonight. Throws on a fresh pair of boxers, then heads to his room, still patting the moisture from his hair.

His bed feels really good tonight, he decides as he settles in, but it's early, and he's not particularly tired yet. He props an extra pillow behind his back and entertains the idea that keeps whisping through his mind. No Cas, nowhere to be, nice quiet night. He inhales deeply and lets his hand drift idly over the flacid organ beneath his boxers. He closes his eyes. This could be good. He'll take it slow, indulge in the guilty pleasure of bringing himself shivering to the brink as many times as he can handle. Just the thought of this little kink of his has him half-erect.

Head back, eyes closed, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, enjoying the sensation of the slide of soft cloth against his skin as he shimmies them off. One hand comes back up to his thigh, tickling, and it's easy to imagine it's Cas's hand, that beautiful son of a bitch, and maybe he's kneeling between his legs and giving him that lusty look Dean never imagined he'd actually get to see.

Fingers drag to the crease of his thigh and up over his hipbone; that place Cas always seems to seek out and worship. He's picturing the angel's lips, plump and soft and gently wrinkled, trailing across the skin there. Already his cock is fully hard, and he won't touch himself there till his face is hot and his breath is shakey and the slit of his cock is pooling slick precum.

He brings both his hands to his nipples, lightly stimulating them to erection, thumbing over them repeatedly, in turn, and feeling the tingling arousal in them. The sensation makes his cock ache, and he thrusts into the empty space above his hips, denying himself that touch for now.

His tongue drags across his upper lip as he continues to pinch and tease his own nipples, an act which always makes him feel exquisitely dirty; applies enough pressure to bring a small amount of pain. A soft little moan escapes him, remembering how Cas had delighted in the discovery of Dean's sensitive pink buds. He brings a hand down between his legs, a thumb nuzzling into his scrotum as he alternates delicious tweaks of each nipple with his free hand.

Cas's naughty, curious fingers come to his mind, the way they feel probing at his entrance, the careful way the angel would open him up and easily find that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden inside him. He cups his balls, massaging them, letting his wrist bump up against his obscenely stiff and bobbing cock. His breath hitches at the brief contact, but he still does not give in to temptation, instead scraping his short fingernails along his inner thigh. His free hand rises to touch his neck, tracing the path where Cas had left wet kisses not many days ago.

He drags his fingers around the base of his cock, then up to his abs, barely touching, just ghosting over the soft hairs there. He's been dreaming of Cas getting rougher with him. Bending him over furniture, asking him filthy questions that no angel should ever think to ask, and then last night, tying him up. He wonders what Cas would think about edging him. Maybe with his hands, maybe with his mouth. Anything to push back that inevitable moment, to revel in the pleasure and teasing and desire as long as Dean's body and Cas's self-control might last.

He's biting his lip now, hand hovering near his cock, so ready to grasp it and make that first approach. He pulls it back, running it instead through his damp hair. His heart is already pounding, and then he feels an odd tingling sensation come over his whole body. No goosebumps, just a warmth and pleasure, but still he stops to peer around the room, wondering if it might be the same presence he'd felt earlier. He wonders if it could possibly be -

"Cas," he whispers, shyly. "Is it you?" Silence; just the quiet room, but now he's absolutely certain he feels something; a closeness, just an intimate presence, and he is almost sure.

"Please, if it's you," he invites, still softly, "I want you here, with me." He is frozen, waiting for anything. His lips press together, and he's all nerves, but he tries one more time. "Castiel, please."

And then he knows he hears a soft sighing breath.

_Close your eyes._

His heart nearly stops, but he does what he's asked immediately. There is a moment of stillness, except that his lips are gently warmed, by...by Cas's, nearby? Then they're covered by the angel's, and all Dean's doubt and anxiety melt away. He takes the angel in his arms and surrenders to the kiss, and it's only when he runs his hands down the other's spine that he fully realizes that Cas is naked. He opens his eyes to find Cas's readily searching his.

"Dean, I," and Dean hears the hesitance in the angel's voice, sees his eyes darting around, but not connecting with Dean's own. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I've been away, and that I didn't tell you when I was near." Soft kisses on the hunter's cheek beg atonement. "Please forgive me. I need you, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you." Dean's heart is trying to burst, but he just pulls the angel closer and looks seriously into his eyes.

"Shut up, Cas. I love you. Now will you please just kiss me?" Their smiles both start small, but feed one off of the other, and then their lips are crushed together again, and Dean is blinking away relieved tears. He wraps a leg around Cas's waist, and silently promises that he'll do whatever it takes, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more smutty, fluffy chapter to come. We worry enough about our heroes when we watch the show - I think Dean and Cas deserve a happy ending here. <3 Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback. xoxo I love you, dear reader. Also please don't be mad that I used the edging tag in this chapter. This one was a tease, but I promise, next chapter will pay off.
> 
>  
> 
> _How poetic._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean finds out his angel is exquisitely dirty, and the two choose each other.

Cas curls his fingers into Dean's hair as their tongues collide. The angel's muscled body is pressed hot against his own, and the man's deep relief is being rapidly replaced by tension, need. Cas's naked dick is hard as it brushes against his own, presses against his stomach, and he can't stop himself from grinding roughly up. This is the first bit of friction his neglected cock has received tonight, and he bites back a throaty exaltation at the pleasure it brings, but he manages to stop himself.

"Been at this for a while, Cas." Dean struggles through the words, needing the angel to hear him. "But I haven't touched myself yet." Cas's hands grip tight into his back, and it's plain to see he has utterly captured the angel's attention.

"Did you know that?" he asks, voice low and ragged. "Have you been watching me?"

Cas says nothing, but his eyes answer for him, now glossed with greed as they run from Dean's neck to his collarbone, then along his chest and down, down to the shadows between them.

"I don't want to get there just yet. I want you to make me wait." Dean reaches his fingertips up to stroke softly over the angel's sternum. He's baring himself by asking, but he trusts Cas, wants to feel himself surrender to him. "You understand what I'm asking you for?" He sees that Cas's chest is rising and falling rapidly, as is his, with both arousal and the excitement that comes with revealing a secret desire.

Cas's eyes have narrowed, and Dean takes a fortifying breath as he watches Cas's hand reach down to his pulsing cock. It comes to rest lightly around the center of his shaft, and the engorged contours are bulging up to meet the callouses of Cas's palm and fingers. His eyes flutter and close, and he forces himself to relax, to surrender control to the angel. Hot puffs of breath land on his neck, and Cas's nose is brushing against his earlobe.

"I believe I understand, Dean." The words come roughly to his ear, and he arches, shivering, into Cas's body. "You'll climax when I permit you to. Are we in agreement?" He can't believe what he's hearing, but the angel gradually tightens his grip, causing Dean to shudder and buck his hips into Cas's fist. A hand immediately comes to the man's hip and pushes him severely back into the mattress.

"I asked you a question, Dean." He has to gather all of his resolve, but he manages to relax his muscle groups, one by one; neck, leaning his head back into the soft pillow, then his shoulders, his lower back, then his tightly clenched glutes with some effort. He continues this exercise, eventually reaching his toes, wiggling them free from their tense curl, and only then does he allow himself to answer.

"Yes, Cas, we are."

"Castiel," the angel growls into his ear. It takes Dean's breath away. He's amazed Cas is so in tune with what he wants, what he needs from him. He hesitantly brings a hand to rest on the muscular bicep of the arm holding him down, and it seems to be allowed.

"Yes, Castiel." And with that the angel begins the work of bringing Dean's body to the brink, pausing only briefly to slick a deposit of spit onto his palm, then jerking his fist quick and incautiously, and bringing their lips together softly, briefly. The thumb resting on his hip begins grazing light, tickling circles on his skin, a counterpoint to the rough way the angel is handling his sex. He inhales deeply, focusing on that light touch, remaining passive in his first approach to the edge of orgasm.

And it's building already. He spreads his fingers on the bed sheets, mindful that his abs and his glutes and the muscles that will eventually control his orgasm remain relaxed. His breaths are coming faster. He chances a glance up at Cas's expression. It's stern as he watches his own hand work the man's cock, but Dean sees the fire hidden in the angel's eyes and trusts that Cas will know how to listen to his body.

There is a flush rising in Dean's chest, stretching into his neck, and he knows he's starting to get there. He's breathing through this one, staying calm, letting the pounding of his heart tell him how near he is, balls not yet tightened to his body. He strokes his fingertips absently across the skin of the angel's shoulders, then lets his head lull back again. Cas is steady and thorough in his touch, but he seems unaware that Dean's skin is rapidly drying, and that kind of friction won't do them any favors. He's quick about reaching down for the lube he keeps in his duffle bag, and he hands it silently to Cas.

The angel casts him a brief glance and takes the small bottle wordlessly, dripping a wet line directly onto the head of Dean's cock, then smearing it carefully around, lingering at the glans with his slicked forefinger. The man's lips draw back, and he hisses a breath through clenched teeth. Cas's eyes grow wide for a moment, and he rests his free hand on the man's chest.

"Tell me how near you are, Dean." The angel's words are quiet, just above a whisper, and he's looking calmly into the man's eyes once again, stroking steady, staccato, firm.

"Not yet," the man strains, and takes a shaky breath. "You can keep going. Please, keep going." The angel slows his hand to a crawl and smiles evenly.

"Please, what?" he asks, arching a brow. A blush rises in the man's cheeks. Cas removes his hand and runs it smoothly across his own abdomen, waiting for reply. Dean needs that touch to keep going, needs Cas's hand to go back to slicking over his shaft, wants it twisting at the head, and now it's starting to stir in him.

"Please, Castiel." This seems to bring Cas some deal of pleasure, and he settles back, ass resting on his heels and knees spread to press into Dean's inner thighs. His long, lean, beautiful cock is straight and so hard, and the man knows he'll have to wait to be fucked, but god, he is aching to be filled.

Dean's fingers are curling into the sheets as Cas resumes, and it's with obvious intent now, making the muscles of his stomach tense and twitch. The angel leans down, cock brushing against Dean's thigh, and takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking it into his hot mouth and rolling his tongue over it till it's tingling. It goes straight to his cock, electric heat coursing through his body, and it's coming, but he can wait maybe a few seconds more to say so. He wants closer, he wants more. His back is arching, and it feels so fucking good, almost -

"Stop, stop -" and Cas does, almost instantaneously releasing him, inching his mouth back to look up into the breathless man's eyes.

"So good, Dean. You were so close, weren't you?" The edge of the angel's lips curve up, hands running lightly up the man's sides, making him shiver and gasp. He reaches for Cas's neck, who, anticipating Dean's wish, leans in for a deep, slow, wet kiss. His heart's starting to slow, and he's catching his breath now. Cas breaks the kiss, nudging their noses together, and massages Dean's hips and ass with his strong hands.

"Can you be just as good if I use my mouth?"

The thought alone makes Dean's cock pulse. Cas is wickedly talented in that area, the quickest and most enthusiastic study he's ever had; he doesn't know if he can last that way. Damn it, he's torn. He's had some playfully rough sex before, and he loves being teased and bossed around, but he's never really relinquished control to anyone before. What if Cas is taking this too seriously? All of the insistent words and dispassionate looks Cas is using are turning him on, yeah. It's ridiculously hot, in fact. He's just starting to wonder if maybe they should have laid some ground rules first. He hasn't answered. His heart is pounding. He needs to answer.

Cas seems to sense his hesitation, runs his fingers through Dean's hair and scrapes his nails gently down the back of his neck. He's placing light kisses on the man's cheeks, his jaw, and softly whispers against his skin, _It's okay_ , barely breaking character, giving Dean permission to screw up, letting him know that he's here for him, not just for this little game of theirs. It's enough. Dean nods and lets his mouth melt against the angel's neck.

Cas straightens up, tipping his head a bit to one side and staring into the man's eyes. His thumb wisps over Dean's cheekbone and he gives him the ghost of a smile, then he's back on his haunches, grasping the hunter's cock and lowering his open lips to it.

Dean's motionless and in awe of the feeling of Cas dropping his mouth over him, cheeks hollowed and tongue firm and molded to the underside of his shaft. He can't help himself, groaning loudly and bringing his hands to rest on the back of the angel's neck. He thought he was ready, that he'd had enough of a break, but it's soo good, it's fucking fantastic, and damn if he's not about to pop in Cas's velvet mouth. He let's it ride for a moment, a pathetic little whimper bubbling up, and he almost thrusts his hips forward, but manages to keep them on the mattress.

"Cas, Cas," he starts urgently, but his eyes open wide, and he remembers. "Castiel," he says softly, reverently, meeting the angel's warning eyes, but his mouth hasn't moved, hasn't stopped. That tongue is swirling over the head of his dick, and the pleasure pulls his torso into a curve. "Stop! Please, Castiel, stop." The angel backs his mouth off of Dean's red and engorged cock, and it's shining with saliva and probably a lot of precum, but it was in time, and he's softly throbbing, not coming yet.

Cas's mouth moves to the crevice of his left thigh, tongue lapping at the bit of sweat there and giving Dean another dangerous jolt, but he's still focused; it's still okay. The angel's tongue goes rigid against his skin, and the hard little tip of it skates wetly along his skin, tickling the hairs there, then moves to lick a straight line up his scrotum, between the two orbs there, and firmly up the shaft of his dick. He stops before reaching the glans, and instead wraps an unmoving hand around his shaft.

"So good, Dean. You're so careful." There's a distinct intonation there that the angel is impressed. "I'm going to make you come, though. Not yet, don't you dare, but eventually, I'm going to drag it out of you, make you fuck my mouth with your fat cock." He's practically glaring at Dean, eyes heavy with lust, and it makes the man's cock twitch. Dean's legitimately stunned to hear those obscene words from Cas, and he's really way too close right now. "And then I'm going to fuck you till you're hard again, and make it happen all over again." He gives Dean's shaft one slow stroke, and the man has to grit his teeth to keep a tortured groan from escaping. He takes a ragged breath and looks helplessly at the angel. There's sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead, and his whole damn body is started to shake with the effort of staving the thundering pulse of orgasm that he just cannot push from his mind.

"Please, Castiel," he's begging, his head swimming with the filth Cas is somehow capable of uttering, "not - I'm not -" Cas is smirking, god damn smirking at Dean, gives him another little jerk, and fuck it's so good, he's so close, and he wants it. He doesn't want to say no anymore, needs it to happen.

"Fffffuck," he whines, "please. Let me, let me," and he's barely stringing his words together, they're just spilling from him.

"Not yet." And there's no room for argument in the words, but Dean can't help himself, needing it now, and thrusts up into Cas's fist. The angel's eyes flicker up to his, incredulous. He shoves Dean back into the mattress. "Not. Yet." His words are ferocious, but Dean can't bring himself to stop, forcing Cas to move his hand away and leave the man to thrust into nothing.

His cock is aching so bad, he just needs to come, needs to now. The angel places a hand on his pelvis, carefully avoiding any meaningful touch, fingers splayed into his coarse, black little hairs, then extends his other hand to the man's left nipple, pinching lightly.

"Do you really want to come now, Dean? Want to waste your load already?" YES, fucking yes, Dean wants to come now, and of fucking course the angel can see that. Cas is better at this than he expected, and so, so much dirtier. He breathes, knowing he's in no position to demand.

"Yy-yes. Want you to let me," he babbles, and Cas's thumbs ghost over his nipples as he speaks, causing him to splutter and stop. The angel smiles and brings his right thumb and forefinger together harshly, pinching the little nub sharply, and Dean can't stop the grunt that erupts from him. He's worried he'll come untouched, unsatisfied, just from the way Cas is abusing his nipples.

"Please, Castiel," he manages, out of his mind, pulsing, needing this orgasm.

Cas leans back down to run his tongue around the ridge of his glans, then softly slicks over the top, hand tugging his foreskin slightly up as he does. "Fuck, Cas!" Not enough, too soft, too little. It feels so fucking good and so fucking wretched, all at once.

The angel releases him again, and he whimpers, shaking, beyond frustrated. He's panting now, chin up and neck straining, trying to get there every time he's touched, but he just fucking can't.

"Call me by my name," the angel says self-assuredly, "and perhaps I'll let you have your release." An angry growl escapes him, but Cas's expression is aloof, uncaring; he is waiting to be asked nicely.

"Now...please, now," is all Dean can force from himself, his fists clenching intermittently.

"Dean?" Cas warns, eyes dark and fierce. So dirty, so fucking hot. Dean is desperate, gasping, and reaches for his own dick, meaning to finish it, finally get there, he has to.

Before he knows what's hit him, Cas has his wrist clenched firmly and is pushing it up over his head. The angel's face is in his again, and it sends a wave of heat through him to feel Cas's strength, to see the passion in his eyes. The angel is slow about taking Dean's other hand and bringing it up to join the other, pressed into the pillows, and now he is helpless. He's never been so turned on.

"That's not what I said. You didn't ask nicely, and you certainly won't be touching yourself." The angel is nuzzling his nose against Dean's cheek now. "I was patient with you, but I can't allow _that_ to go without reprimand." The man writhes beneath the weight of the angel on his chest, his hot breath hitting Dean's face in angry little puffs. Then in a swift motion, Cas lifts the man, turning him (not too roughly) to kneel on the bed with his back to the angel's chest. He gathers Dean's arms between their bodies, then forms the man's hands around his dick. Then the angel's mouth is on Dean's neck, sucking a bruise onto the soft skin there. He thrusts into Dean's hands sharply and groans.

"Stroke." Dean feels that gruff command, too, a strong pulse in his untouched dick. He does, as best he can, disoriented with his hands behind his back, stroke Cas. He hears the click of plastic and feels cool, slick liquid dripping on and between his fingers, and now his movements are making an obscene, wet noise on the angel's dick. Cas wraps his arms around his waist and starts to pump into his hands, grunting with each thrust.

"Still want me to make you come, Dean?" Cas asks, his voice shaking now, but still terse, then suddenly there's a firm smack connecting with Dean's ass cheek. He leans back against Cas's shoulder, shocked, but Cas is already soothing the burn with soft pets, never slowing his thrusts.

"Do you want that, Dean? Can you ask me nicely?" Dean's resolve is crumbled, and he'll do anything.

"Yes, please touch me. Please.. Castiel please." His voice is barely a low rumble, breaking as he begs.

He feels Cas's gate falter in his hands, and the angel moans softly before taking Dean in his hand again, soft strokes bringing him rapidly back to where he was. He can't help himself. He breaks contact with the angel to plant both hands on the bed, and his hips are lurching forward.

"Oh! Cas, sorry, I - Castiel, I can't -" and he truly cannot, he's not physically able to hold himself up. It's too much, the way Cas is stroking him, right up to the head, just the right amount of friction now that the lube's worn away.

"Shh, Dean, it's okay," Cas soothes, not slowing, leaning down to press his lips to Dean's neck, holding him close with his left arm. "Let yourself go, now. You've waited long enough." His touch is unbelievable, and now that Dean knows Cas won't stop, he's grinding back against the angel's erection, the slick length of it slipping along the cleft of his ass as his climax approaches.

Cas's unhurried pace is drawing out every bit of pleasure from these last moments; thumb circling his extremely sensitive glans with each stroke. The world's growing more distant. His breathing is in slow motion as he feels it coming and can finally give in to it, and there's the tightening, that initial wave that freezes his universe. All he can feel is Cas against him, around him, kissing him, holding him. It's heaven. This is heaven.

He's gone. His orgasm perfectly encouraged by the hand around him. He lets it tear through him, crying out, lost to everything but this perfect pleasure. Heat stabs through his body, dragging each throbbing stream out of him, until his body has given all it has. His arms and legs give out, and he's curled onto the bed sheets with the angel's arms wrapped lovingly around him.

There's only euphoria for a long while, and the soft touch of Cas's hands on his chest and stomach. He's safe, and satiated, and above all, loved so much that he can physically feel it.

"Cas," he whispers, when his mind begins to come back to him. "Cas, thank you. I love you."

He hears a gentle laughter and he's being held tighter. "I know you do, Dean. I love you too."

***

The two are wrapped up in a wool blanket, stretched out on the hood of the almost good-as-new Impala, curled into one another as they watch the sun rise. It's cold out here, but damn it's beautiful. Dean's never been happier.

He can't remember the last time he spent the night making love, but regardless of when, this was no doubt the most meaningful. 

They've now had the much dreaded conversation about Cas and his plans for the universe. Not Dean's idea of post-coital bliss, but in the end, Dean's agreed to give Cas whatever he needs, up to and including a break from all the prying, and the angel's agreed to stop hiding all of these things from him on principal. Dean has not said aloud that he thinks Cas would make the sexiest God he can imagine, but it's probably understood. It's going to be okay. Everything is okay.

"Got a delivery here for a Cas-tee-elle, and Dean Winchester?" a gruff, backwoodsy voice announces. They both sit up and turn to see Bobby, smiling and holding out a couple of beers. Dean's startled at first, but he doesn't often see the man with an expression of actual joy, and he can't help but return the smile.

"Beer for breakfast?" he asks, reaching for them. "What in the hell did I do to deserve this?"

Bobby just laughs and rolls his eyes. "Glad you kids made up. I've been waitin' all anxious for a few weeks now."

Dean's grin widens, and he looks into Castiel's warm eyes. "I think we have too."

"Okay, then," Bobby suggests, "Last beer before bed. Wouldn't want you two to be worthless on the next hunt." Cas seems to take this invitation with no small amount of happiness.

"Will do, Sir. I'll keep Dean company until he needs to go to sleep."

"All right." Bobby nods, like that's that, and heads back inside.

Dean and Cas turn to one another, happiness covering both their faces.

"Promise me you're really okay, Dean." The hunter stops to look into his angel's eyes.

"Course I am. Nothing could make me happier than you." Cas's eyes tell Dean he believes him, and he snuggles in, turning his attention back to the orangey-pink sky.

"Me too, Dean."

They each take a sip or two of their beers, but they're really more interested in each other. Sleepy kisses are exchanged, hands are stuffed into any warm spot they can find. They snuggle for a few minutes more, but as the sun grows brighter, they take Bobby's advice, and head back to Dean's room for a little rest before the world remembers it has to keep spinning.

 

~FIN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I love these two - I just wanted to take care of them. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Comments welcome and very, very much appreciated. If you're here, thanks for reading. I wish I could hug every one of you! <3


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